Designations
by ArlecchiNin
Summary: A swift romance that may take place while chasing after a full-fledged bird -because eternity had condemned them to survive for the rest of their days.


**Designations** _by_ ArlecchiNin

**Summary:** A swift romance that may take place while chasing after a full-fledged bird -because eternity had condemned them to survive for the rest of their days.

**Disclaimer:** Norihiro Yagi owns everything!

**Warning:** Soft shoujo-ai.

**Notes:** I like these two. Galatea has a thing for Clare. And I like to explore it, that's it!

ENJOY.

"**A**re you alright? Galatea?"

"I can't really admit to say that I'm alright but I'll do as much as I can," her eyes where shadowed by a slight sadness as the moonbeams lurched around making her silvery hair glister at such light.

The last time they had seen each other was when they had combated together Riful of the West. It had been so long ever since –and yet they have not changed that much.

She had already forgotten how she could pinch the pain so accurately inside her chest. What was about her but the notion of the perfect embodiment of a ray of hope among them? She admired her, she wanted to hold her humanity close to her. Her arrogance could better rest on the soft ground for once and just while she got to grasp for that weak peak of yoki into her arms.

"_Galatea_?" It was the way she always pronounced her name. It was a very common place thing to know the top warriors' names and ranks and to fear them too. She was not scared to face her in battle as her equal. She was not scared if she had to risk her life for the sake of saving hers. She had gone to catch her like a naughty bird that's flown away from its golden cage, she was there to lock her up inside that cage. She had known, her eyes had sparkled in panic and confusion when she read the sign worn on her chest. She shouted her name.

They have managed. She arranged things for her to have a guardian angel for awhile because the forty-seventh warrior was a charming creature way beyond them, sustaining the injuries of time and unsuccessful events, enduring the pain all by herself. She decided she really wanted to love her for she deserved it. Unlike her.

She was always known for her mocking. The mocking bird of the organization. Her eyes always peeled and alert –her eyes always peeled and alert on her comrades' ministrations. She knew a lot of things and rarely missed something but to read her was a difficult task to map out.

Truly the members of the organization who carried claymores could divide themselves according to being the offensive type or the defensive type of fighter –and yet they also could differ according to their intentions when unsheathing their swords. Some of them unfold their powers in order to defend themselves from being attacked while some others unfurl and reveal their abilities in order to protect those they care about, to stand their ground proudly and disclosing an elevating animosity to survive. Pleased to be who they are, clear silver eyes looking straight ahead, delighted and confident of the name and title they have agreed to bear.

Not without difficulty, she stood up, slashing the air with her claymore once more. The screaming of the yoma and the pouring blood splattering all around the place couldn't make their setting any less romantic. They were so hard and cold after all. Especially her. Cold and distant, the all seeing Eye of the organization.

She struck again, panting, gathering all forces she had to protect her, to give her the perfect chance to go and grant the final blow. She knew she could do it, she could do it without remorse. She was so unlike her.

The impeccable one, half human, half warrior. The most perfect member ever produced as the result of the evil and greedy schemes of their superiors and the pure and naïve will of a child to carry on with a decimated dream, the remaining ounce of it.

"Galatea?"

She nodded. It was the right given moment to do it and she was part of it.

"I'm going to be alright. You just don't die."

She didn't await for a reply. She was long gone, after being known as the organization's eyes, she had gone blind.

_Right now my eyes are wide open, Clare._

~Fin*

**Final notes: **This is my very first Claymore story. Good enough? I'll leave it to your wits and judgment.


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